I have posted many times before desperately asking for help, searching, pleading... I needed to confess to my fiance a shameful secret. But I wasn't prepared to experience some sobering feelings that reminded me all to well why I dove deeper into the habit.
11 months ago I gave birth to sweet healthy baby girl. I have no cliches to describe the actual birth. No euphoria or what a miracle moment it was. I specifically remember being overwhelmed with such apathy. Everyone was almost cheering (some were even crying) - I could not understand...
The pregnancy itself I found inconvenient. It was planned of course. I was so excited to become a mom. Enter clichés now because it's the truth. I wanted motherhood to be my career. As a teen, I doted on my nephew when he was a baby and always felt that butterfly "I'd kill for you" kind of love . The "Gosh! I could just squeeze dem whittle cheeks!" kind of love. I always knew I was going to be THAT kind of mom. But reality hit. I got pregnant, two weeks I was on a pink cloud. Then... Nothing. I felt nothing. I hated it moving. Literally woukd cry when it moved begging for it to stop. (to this day when I get a gas bubble I literally have a flashback and it's not pretty.) An alien was inside my body and I was the unlucky host. That is how I would describe MY pregnancy.
*if I come off cold please know I'm a rational smart human being that feels like a piece of shit already and I'm drained. I have confirmed to myself I was born cold hearted and have destroyed any empathy or love with in myself... I do care. I do have feelings. I'm just laying it all out. Because... This is happening to me and I'm scared. *
I picked up smoking weed. That helped not pay attention to it. Smoking weed led to sitting around and eating. Oh yeah, I also have an old habit of binge and purging, something I taught myself in high school. That stuck around throughout my entire pregnancy. That was evidence alone I didn't love my child. I remember therapist telling me that 95 percent of the women that get pregnant are cured of bulimia because, DUH! the child is enough. well that did not happen for me. again confirmation I am who I believed I was. A cold hearted human. I faked it though. I played the excited mom. But eye rolled in secret. Cold hearted, see. So, now you can imagine if I were to describe labor and birth....
All the pain... Ugh for what? And why did I get a healthy baby?
God or science, whatever gave me a healthy baby but depleted me of love. Why? It didn't make sense to me. I waited for it to click, this bond thing but fuck I felt like a babysitter and was annoyed that my mom or someone wasn't offering to take her. Rationally I knew that wasn't how it worked but holy shit it didn't set it until... My pain pills ran out.
That's one perk. You give birth, you get pills. And mine were the only thing keeping me somewhat able to get around. I spent the 2 hours between the baby naps dreading the minute she woke up. I replayed over and over how I just wanted to sleep and fuck this is my life. I am annoyed and hate that I didn't get the ah hah moment like other moms had. I was so annoyed. Lesson learned. I'm not maternal. But oh well. I had a baby, can't change that. And from there the finality of this horrible reality I created hovered over me constantly. Things changed to. My personality- I never had thoughts of shaking my kid or hurting her. My thoughts were more like fantasizing about just running away. By myself, becoming a pill head on the streets. I would take it if.... Well, if I didn't have to take responsibility of another person. Fact is that I am accountable for her. I can't live with knowing she would feel like she wasn't enough. She is enough, right? I felt all my concerns for her were out of selfishness. I couldn't run away because I didn't want to be judged. So I fantasized about it. I couldn't kill myself because I'm too lazy and that's pretty dramatic... But out of my will power I swear to you, this fucking image of me choking myself was stuck on repeat in my head... I used it as an mental escape. I still can't explain what the fuck that was But I know that's when I started drinking.
Long story short. I drank every day. I got pills when I could. I went back to a very stressful high demand job. Pills ran out. Can't drink at work. Feeling of dread creeps back up. Fucking meth entered my life. And for 6 months I had me a meth habit! *I feel like white trash saying that. So why not. *
Anyway, I did things most people are not proud of, lied, manipulated, shut myself off from the world, let my heath take a shit, and what hurts me the fucking most is I lived my daughters first year in this haze... Fog of a fuck up.
I was an all star mom on the outside and yes my child was taken care of above and beyond. I am not in denial my addictions took any chance of bonding with her away. I threw away moments of one on one interaction forever and that is something again I really have a hard time with. I just am a piece of shit man. All addiction aside I will say that my duty as mom intake pretty serious. I think it's because I know how I truly feel about this mom thing that makes me try even harder to prove I do love being a mom and it just came so easy yada yada....
Fast forward to now. Right now...
I told my fiance I formed a habit and I went threw with drawl for a few days. He is supportive. He wants to send me to rehab. I agree but no one has a bed. I'm at a loss. I feel empty. I feel a little spurt of my old self... But then I'm in raged or crying hysterical or in disbelief AGAIN that I have a... Shit. I have a toddler now. And I'm sober. I never wanna touch a drug again. I really mean that... Ok, I smoke weed. It helps though. BUT I am so fucking scared of these feelings of dread and finality. Like post partum does this last forever. I feel like the feeling are creeping up to the surface 10 fold. I am currently locked in my bedroom at my request because I'm a bitch and can't hold back tantrums or rants. Seriously, I'm the one that blew money and dropped a bombshell. Yet, you woukd think it was the other way around. Im sad these are my words that I'm writing. I'm sad this is my story. I'm sorry for my fiance. For my child. I see a better future. I want to put the work in I guess I just don't know where to start. My fiance wants me to go to the hospital and say I'm having... Thoughts. (Which I'm not) but he thinks that's the only way I can get into a rehab. Is this true? While I'm not suicidal at all, I do see the detachment and hopelessness forming again. I also have that stupid eating disorder (withdrawal from meth it has come back 10 fold as well) and I just find the cracks and go back to drugs for comfort. So I agree I need treatment... I'm just not sure wtf to do.
My goal is to be sober and in a better mind state by my daughters first birthday. I got a month people. What would you do?
That was hard. im so embarrassed. words can not express the feelings of shame and guilt I hold.... really though. It's an ultimate blow to a mom to feel you don't love correctly. So be nice, OK.
Weds was my last dope day.
I started back on my prozac Thursday.
I'm taking multivitamins sleeping, eating, sleeping, self loathing, crying...
Fiance had been supportive with baby. I'm just lost.